


You Look So Cool

by lostmyhealy (Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson)



Series: To Complete [11]
Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - No Band, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Blood, Blood and Injury, Doctor George Daniel, Gun Violence, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Injury, Inspired by: Robbers MV, M/M, Medical Intern Freddy Sheed, Medical Procedures, Mild Graphic Violence, Non-Descriptive Medical Procedures, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:29:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Likey_Thor_Odinson/pseuds/lostmyhealy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Robbers AU</em>
</p><p>It was meant to be their blow out of this shitty town. It was meant to be the start of their whole new lives.</p><p>It wasn't meant to go like this. </p><p>It wasn't meant to end like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Rating to go up; additional tags to be updated as the fic goes on._

They have a packet of rice each; the shitty microwave rice that takes two minutes in the microwave and tastes like processed plastic. It’s cheap, and they don’t know how much of their money they need to save for the guns, how much they need for gas for the getaway, how much they need for the shitty motel room they were renting. The plain one is the cheapest by just 30 cents, and that’s the one they’re currently shovelling into their mouths.  
  
It’s sticky, burns their tongues and makes their jaws ache to chew, but it’s worth it; it’s the first ‘proper’ food that they’ve eaten in the past week.   
  
Money needed to be saved, and they were too anxious to leave the room they were staying in, scared they might say a detail that would lead to everything going wrong. They’d been living off the damn chocolate and sweets Ross had in his bag.  
  
Matty’s rice was slightly hard, giving a soft, dull crunch every time he chewed. Ross was inhaling just before every mouthful, the soft ‘hhah’ echoing around Matty’s head. Adam was chewing with his mouth open, the disgusting noises filling Matty’s ears.  
  
The sounds were putting him on edge.  
  
Chucking his bowl down hard enough for the porcelain to chip, he grabbed his cigarette packet and went outside, making sure to slam the door behind him.  
  
Leaning on the rusted metal railing outside, staring at the darkening car park eight feet below, Matty plucked a cigarette from his almost-empty pack and held it between his lips whilst he patted his pockets for his lighter. Tugging it free from the tightness of the skinny jeans he wore, he lit his cigarette, taking a long drag.  
  
The smoke curled around his lungs and he held it there for seven seconds before he exhaled it through his nose. The wind twisted the silver tendrils through the air, only visible for a few inches before they disappeared from view; the nicotine began to rush through his system.  
  
He felt calmer, more at peace with the world, and Matty let his eyes close.  
  
There was a chill on the evening wind, and the silk shirt that he wore did nothing to keep it out. It surrounded him, cutting like knives, and he let himself shudder once, but only once.   
  
Slowly, he took another drag on his cigarette before he opened his eyes to stare off into the distance.   
  
The road was straight in front of him and, just before the horizon, glinting in the slowly setting sun, their target sat, ripe for the picking.   
  
Ashing his cigarette, Matty watched it float away on the wind, doing a small dance as it drifted over the air currents, sinking down only to rise up again, being whisked around by invisible hands.  
  
Tomorrow morning, they would get the guns. Tomorrow afternoon, they would hit the target. Tomorrow evening, they’d have blown this shitty town, rolling in the money they’d taken.  
  
Tomorrow, their lives would begin.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of the door slamming shut invaded Matty’s dreams and tugged him to consciousness.   
  
“... could you have been so fucking stupid?!”  
  
“I didn’t see anyone else moving to get it!”  
  
“We were waiting for the right moment and you might have just got the damn police on our trail!”  
  
Matty shot upright, eyes wide at Adam’s words and stood up. He stumbled, body still dreary with sleep, but still he glared at Ross. “What the _fuck_ did you do?”  
  
Ross said nothing, instead, looking down at his feet where they shifted on the carpet; it was bare, almost stripped completely of the patterned fabric it had once been.  
  
Adam snarled.  
  
“He just bought the guns.”  
  
Matty frowned, confusion clear on his face as he looked between his two friends. He cleared his throat before he made his way to the trousers he had haphazardly thrown to the floor last night. He tugged them over his skinny legs, absentmindedly noticing how they weren’t as tight as they normally were. He fished his beaten up cigarette packet out of his pocket and decided to fuck going outside in the cold.  
  
“What’s so bad about getting the guns? We do need them, Adam.”  
  
Ross cleared his throat. “I didn’t realise there was a cop in the parking lot.”

Matty froze. “You did what?”  
  
Ross looked away, out the window at the sun that was tracking across the sky, almost reaching the high point of the Earth’s rotation. “I didn’t know, okay? He didn’t see anything, and we have the guns. It’s almost noon, so how about we do this shit?”  
  
Silence fell amongst the three men and Matty looked between his two friends.  
  
“Let me have a fag and then we’ll do this. Make sure everything’s ready.”  
  
The other two men nodded and started going over their papers, their written plans, once more and Matty headed outside. He rested his forearms on the familiar iron railings, cold and sharp under his skin; he’d smoked up here every morning and every evening for the past two weeks; he’d seen this same view a hundred times, and it was still as uninteresting as ever.  
  
The sun was hot, not that hot, but hot enough for a sweat to pick up quickly on Matty’s brow, making his fringe stick ever so slightly to his forehead.  
  
He ran his hand through his hair, pushing it all back.  
  
In the parking lot, a prostitute leaned into a car, flashing her breasts to the man inside. Matty watched the man get out the car and head to the staircase behind the woman.  
  
They passed behind him and he considered warning them there was a cop in the area.  
  
He lit his cigarette and trained his gaze back on the glint on the horizon.  
  
This was it. This was happening.  
  
They’d been settled in their shitty little town since they were 12, Adam, 13, and had always talked about ripping away, breaking free and starting anew in a different state. Matty had always had his eyes on New York.   
  
He had a singing voice, he could make it big there, follow his dreams.  
  
For the life of him, he couldn’t remember what Adam and Ross had wanted to do.  
  
He had his shitty guitar that he’d had for the past 13 years; he would have money. He could set himself up in a cheap apartment, buy some shitty Wi-Fi and record some songs; he had more than enough written. He could chuck them online, MySpace, if people still used that. Bandcamp. SoundCloud. He could really make something of himself if this heist worked out.  
  
Within a year, he could be playing live in coffee shops and bars, and then, in a few years of _really_ hard work, and with a little bit of luck, he could be playing live shows for a few hundred. A few thousand in a few more years and then god knows where a career would take him after that.  
  
Lost in the vision of his daydream for a moment, he shook his head before looking back at the gas station in the distance.   
  
He took a few drags on his cigarette before ashing it and then carefully stubbing it out. He put the half-smoked cigarette back into the packet he had, realising there was just one more after that, and then headed back inside.  
  
“Let’s get this show on the road.”

-xox-

They sat outside of the gas station, in the van, staring at it. Matty had wrapped his bandana around his face and was staring at the ski mask in his hands. Ross had chosen to stick with just his bandana.  
  
With a breath of nerves, Matty carefully pulled the ski mask over his face. It was hot, and it made his skin itch.  
  
His hand found the gun in his lap and gripped the door handle for a few seconds.  
  
There were no cars getting gas. There were no customers inside the shop. There were no cars driving past.   
  
It was now or never.  
  
Matty opened the door and set his feet down on the tarmac. It was full of potholes. Dark patches of gas were spread over it. The wind made Matty’s unbuttoned silk shirt twist around him in the wind, billowing out behind him like a cape. The scent of gasoline flooded Matty’s nostrils, and he felt at home for a moment. He didn’t know why.  
  
He gripped the hard, metal handle of the gun in his hand and his finger twitched on the trigger. His thumb found the safety gauge and he took a step forward.  
  
And another.  
  
And another.  
  
Before Matty realised what was happening, his free hand was on the door to the gas station and he was pulling it open, rushing inside. Ross was right behind him; he could feel the gym bag hitting against the back of his legs.  
  
The counter was directly in front of them.  
  
Matty made eye contact with the owner down the aisle. They did nothing but stare at each other for a moment, and then Matty clicked the safety off and raised the gun. His hands raised slowly into the air.  
  
Ross pushed past him and Matty followed on his friend’s left side, keeping the gun trained on the owner.  
  
“ _All_ the money in the bag. No funny play. Money and then we’re gone.”  
  
Matty glanced at the clock to the side of his head; 13:47.  
  
The sound of another gun’s safety clicking off sounded in Matty’s ears and he wondered why Ross had drawn his gun before a gunshot sounded.  
  
Something flew past Matty’s head and he jumped, snapping back to reality. Adam hadn’t drawn his gun; the owner had.  
  
Matty’s finger tensed and a bullet flew over the owner’s shoulder, but it was too late.  
  
The owner’s gun went off again and pain exploded in the right sight of Matty’s stomach. His legs went out from underneath him. Ross grabbed him. Ross swore. The owner’s gun went off again – or was it Matty, shooting into the floor? Ross hauled him outside.  
  
The van’s tyres screeched on the ground as Matty stumbled forwards, hand clamping to the warm, sticky wound on his stomach, struggling to stay upright. His hand found his balaclava, and he dropped the thick, black material to the tarmac. Ross’ arm wrapped around him and they ran forward.   
  
The door was half open and Ross yanked it the rest of the way before he pushed Matty inside the back of the van. Matty curled up in the foetal position, breathing heavily, trying to find his breath, trying to ignore the red hot coiling pain in his abdomen.   
  
Behind them, the door of the gas station slammed open and another shot went off. Ross jumped into the back and slammed the door.  
  
Adam didn’t need Ross yelling at him to drive as he floored it, the accelerator clanging against the van’s floor.  
  
“What the fuck happened?!”  
  
“Matty wasn’t fucking looking and the owner pulled a gun. I couldn’t get mine out before he started firing.”  
  
“Is there an exit wound?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Is there a fucking exit wound, Ross?”  
  
Matty cried out in pain as Ross rolled him over, gently trying to look over his back.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That means the bullet is still inside his fucking body, Ross.”  
  
“Shit.”  
  
“We need to get him help.”  
  
Ross was quick to tug Matty’s shirt off before forcing him to lie down on the floor of the van, resting the man’s head on his knees. The man quickly folded up the silk shirt into a make shift square before he pressed it against the oozing wound.  
  
Matty arched off the ground, screaming in pain, his head thrashing from side to side.  
  
Ross quickly removed the bandana from around his friend’s mouth and nose.  
  
“Matty! Matty, you gotta calm down, buddy. You gotta calm down. I know it hurts, but you gotta lay still. Stop irritating the wound.”  
  
“Give him a fag.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said give him a fucking fag, Ross!”  
  
“Cigarette. Right.”  
  
His spare hand reached for Matty’s pockets, digging through them before he pulled the beaten up packet out. Quickly, and awkwardly, he opened it with one hand before pulling out the half-smoked cigarette from this morning. He held it to Matty’s mouth and the smaller man took it between his lips before Ross struggled in pulling him upright.  
  
Matty cried out, tears starting to fall down his face. Shaking, Ross struggled to spark the lighter in hand, but he managed to and Matty took a long drag.  
  
He whimpered weakly and Ross took the cigarette from his mouth so that Matty could exhale. They sat in silence; Matty dragging, Ross moving the cigarette.  
  
After one more drag, Matty took the cigarette himself, breathing harshly as he inhaled. He stared at his hand, his arm. He didn’t think he had ever been this pale before.   
  
Then it was gone and Ross stubbed the cigarette out on the floor before flicking it out the window.  
  
Silence remained, and Ross shifted them around a little so that he could lay Matty down again, head in his lap.  
  
The van lurched, and Matty hissed as his side caught the floor. Ross did his best to apply more pressure without hurting his friend before he looked to Adam.  
  
“Speed up. The bleeding’s getting quicker.”

-xox-

Evening had fallen long ago and it had brought darkness with it.  
  
Streets lights shone through the windows, blinding Matty periodically as Adam drove just over the speed limit.  
  
Street lights meant there were in civilisation, it meant they were on their way to the safe house. The safe house meant that Matty could rest, get his side patched up. It meant safety, an end to the pain in his side.  
  
“How’s he doing?”  
  
“The bleedings gotten worse.”  
  
“We’re almost there.”

Matty was vaguely aware of the van slowing down, the vehicle not lurching him around as much as it had been. He was grateful for the moment to take a breath, to not have to focus on keeping his right side off of the cold metal of the floor. His breaths came less harsh, even starting to even out a little bit more. Carefully, he set his back fully against the floor, his head still resting in Adam’s lap.  
  
“We have to be nearly at the safe house by- GAH- by now?”  
  
Adam moved and Matty’s head hit the floor with a dull thud. Pain echoed around his head, and he groaned.  
  
Matty was vaguely aware of the door of the van scraping against its rusted hinges as Adam pushed it open. Cold air rushed into the too-hot van, and Matty hissed as it wrapped itself around his already shivering body.  
  
“We’re sorry.”  
  
Hands were on his hips and then the van was gone and Matty yelled out as he landed on his right side. Pain exploded in the wound and the sound of screeching wheels and a slamming door sounded.  
  
“WAIT!”  
  
Matty was vaguely aware of hands on him, rolling him over before he heard someone swear.  
  
“GET ME A GURNEY!”  
  
A hand pressed down on the gun shot to Matty’s side, and the man arched off the ground, screaming out. Another hand pressed his chest down and Matty weakly fought it, sobbing out.  
  
“Sir, you need to calm down. What’s your name?”  
  
What was his name? Matty struggled to recall it, desperately clawing through the mess of his brain, trying to find the simple piece of information he should know on demand. After a moment’s struggle, he inhaled sharply through his mouth.  
  
“M-Matt. Matty.”  
  
“Alright, Matty, this is going to hurt a bit, but I need you to bear with me.”  
  
Arms were underneath him and Matty was flying through the air, body jarring as someone ran with him in his arms. There was a sickening slash in his stomach and Matty cried out.   
  
“Shit; where is my gurney?!”  
  
Cold was underneath Matty’s back, he could feel it under his forearms, and his fingers curled in the fabric. After a moment, he recognised it; _leather_. There was a clanging of metal and he carefully reached his hand out to the side, hand touching more cold.   
  
Why was everything so damn cold?  
  
“Gunshot wound, name of Matty; that’s all he told me. The wound split when I was carrying him in from the parking lot; Miranda, get me an OR open, _now_ ; Andy, we’re gonna need blood- Matty! Matty, do you know what blood type you are?”  
  
Matty racked his brain, rocked it from side to side, stabbing at it for the information.  
  
“A... A minus.”  
  
“Andy, get on it, _now_ ; for God’s sake, someone get an oxygen mask and an anaesthetist!”  
  
Blinking his eyes open, Matty stared at the doctor by his side.  
  
His hair was blond, tied up in a bun on the back of his head. His white coat was covered in blood.   
  
Looking upwards, the bright, synthetic light burned his eyes and he frowned.  
  
Doctor. Gurney. Medical talk.  
  
Matty realised where he was and jerked off the gurney with a yell. Immediately, hands started pushing him down and he started struggling.  
  
“No! No! I can’t be here, get off me, I need to go! I need to go!”  
  
“You can’t go anywhere, you’re bleeding out; do you hear me? Matty, if you don’t get surgery, you’re going to die.”  
  
“I can’t be here!”  
  
“Where’s the anaesthetist?!”  
  
“I have to go!”  
  
Matty struggled as something was put over his face, and tried not to breath in whatever gas was surrounding his nose and mouth, but it was no use. Struggling weakly as his vision went blurry, Matty kicked out a little.  
  
The blond doctor leaned over him, saying something along the lines of ‘here to help’ but Matty couldn’t read lips very well and then everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

Doctor George Daniel was well known through most of the medical field as one of the best doctors in Mercy Hospital; not for his skill – there were many doctors much more qualified, and much better than himself.  
  
He was famous for his patient care and bed side manner.  
  
He spent his time ensuring the health of every single patient that fell under his care; he went out of his way to make his patients comfortable, to make sure that their wellbeing was his main priority – after any and all procedures that they needed.  
  
Sometimes, it was a curse. Sometimes, he cared too much  
  
This... Matty, was no exception to him.  
  
George leant back in the chair next to the hospital bed, watching the pale man’s chest rise and fall slowly. Numerous needles and IVs ran into the man’s arms, rushing painkillers, medicine and fluids into his frail body, keeping his blood pressure from falling dangerously low.  
  
His blood pressure had dropped dangerously low once in the surgery causing a small heart attack and his heart had stopped twice; all three times, George had only just managed to bring him back.  
  
Luckily, his body had begun fighting the trauma, his heart beat and blood pressure levelling out and the rest of the surgery had gone smoothly.  
  
Now, it was a waiting game; George assumed that it was almost over. Matty’s eyes had started twitching underneath his eyelids; it was proof that Matty was in REM sleep.  
  
Sighing a moment, George leant back in the chair, stretching his long legs out. He licked his lips momentarily before he blinked and turned his attention to Matty’s face.  
  
The man’s hair was curled in tight ringlets that had loosened; perhaps it had been a perm at one stage, or maybe it just grew like that. George supposed it was cute, if it were his natural hairstyle.  
Matty’s face was pert; his eyes were slightly small, but in a sweet way. His cheeks were long, high-boned, yet still slight rounded, and they lead down into an angled jaw line. His nose was a little on the long side, but it was slim, and fit his face perfectly. His lips were a soft pale pink, perhaps champagne pink; his top lip was significantly thinner than his bottom, but it was a ratio that worked for his face. His ears stuck out a little, but, once again, it worked for his face, they suited him. His eyebrows were thick, bushy, but they framed his eyes to a degree of perfection George wondered if he had ever seen on anyone else.  
  
George cast his eye down the bed, taking in the man’s frail body.  
  
His ribs could be seen through the thin hospital gown he wore, his breaths pitifully frail. His arms were skinny; they looked as though they might break at the elbows the moment they moved.  
  
He came to the conclusion that the man was rather attractive, even in his unhealthy state.  
  
George found himself wondering when Matty last had a decent meal; when he’d had a shower, when he’d last had a chance to take care of himself. If he lived on the streets, that would explain it – but people that lived on the streets didn’t have someone to... ‘drop’ them off at a hospital. A prostitute might make sense – getting shot by a pimp was an all too common occurrence, and it would explain the hasty departure of his comrades. Equally; he could have been caught up in some form of illegal activity, shot in some form of heist gone wrong.  
  
George was tugged from his thoughts by a sharp knocking on the door to the private room he had insisted Matty have. Rising from the chair he sat in, George strode across the room to pull the door open.  
  
On the other side of the door, medical intern Freddy Sheed stood, holding a navy blue Nike gym bag and black fabric guitar case. The gym bag was frayed, the handle on the right side barely clinging to the body of the bag, hems breaking and straining against the weight. The guitar bag was in desperate need of repair or replacement; the fabric was stripped bare, the brown wood of the guitar inside able to be seen.  
  
George couldn’t think of any other response other than to raise an eyebrow.  
  
“Freddy?”  
  
“These were left at reception by a woman. She just dropped them off and ran out the door before anyone could ask her what was happening. The labels say Matthew Healy and I checked. There’s no Matthew Healy checked in-”  
  
“-And Matty is short for Matthew.” George’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he reached forward to take them, nodding. “Thank you.”  
  
Freddy seemed to hesitate for a moment, and before George could ask him what he was thinking, the intern had disappeared, rushing off to the sound of his beeping pager.  
  
Sighing momentarily, George moved to the corner of the room, setting the gym bag and guitar case down before he returned to Matty’s bedside. He checked the clipboard at the bottom of the bed before setting it back down in the section it belonged to before his eyes found the monitors. They were starting to speed up, the beeping speeding up a little bit before it levelled back out.  
  
“Who are you? Where am I?”  
  
George focused on the man’s face, his eyes blinking around, eyes staring into the doctor’s. Panic, worry and confusion sat in his golden brown eyes; George noticed that they were a molten topaz in colour – and George offered a warm smile.  
  
“I’m Doctor George Daniel; you were left here by some people; I assume they were your friends, but then again, I don’t think someone’s friend would shove them out of a moving vehicle. You were shot. Currently, you’re in the recovery ward of Mercy Hospital. You- Sir, you need to lie down.”  
  
Matty had sat up and started tugging at the wires and lines entering his body, seeming to be in a panic. George immediately stepped around the bed, pushing the man back down onto the bed, holding his hands down.  
  
“Sir, calm down; your body is still recovering from serious trauma and surgery-”  
  
“-I can’t be here. You don’t understand, I _can’t_.”  
  
“Matthew, you need to listen to me. You have serious trauma in your stomach. Numerous organs were injured when you were shot and we had to rifle around to remove the bullet. If you keep it up, you’re going to pull a stitch open either inside your stomach or on top of your stomach. If you continue to kick around, I _will_ be forced to sedate you.”  
  
George’s words seemed to get through to the man on the bed and, slowly, he calmed down.  
  
“Put the news on and leave me.”  
  
“Sir, I have to ask you some questions-”  
  
“-I said, put the news on and leave me. I don’t want to talk.”  
  
George hesitated a moment before he sighed, picking up the remote control to turn the small television on, mounted to the ceiling in the corner of the room. He flicked through the channels before he set the remote down on the bed, walking out the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
The doctor stared through the window in the door, watching Matt scanning the news with a look of desperation on his face before the sound of his pager buzzing him for surgery called him away.

-xox-

“-I said, put the news on and leave me. I don’t want to talk.”  
  
For a moment, Matty thought that the doctor wouldn’t leave the room; that he might continue to question him, maybe even force the answers out of him. Then his shoulders sagged and he resigned himself to reaching for the remote that was sitting on the bedside table.  
  
The channels flickered to life, static and the buzz of interference filling Matty’s ears and he winced back a little, his eyes staring at the small screen.  
  
The news flickered on and the doctor dropped the remote on the bed before he turned away. He froze a moment and Matty wondered if he would turn around – Matty realised a part of him _wanted_ the doctor to turn around, but he stepped out of the room.  
  
Matty sighed in relief before he turned his attention fully to the news.  
  
There was, of course, a warning out for the van; he wondered how long it had been after they left that the police had gotten there.  
  
The next headline made his heart flutter; making the machines linked up to him beep out of sync. For a moment, he half-expected the doctor to come back in, maybe a nurse, but no-one did.

_Drivers in armed robbery arrested – armed robber still at large_

Matty felt tears welling up in his eyes as they featured a picture of him – thankfully, his face was covered by his balaclava; leaving his face completely covered.

 _The remaining member of the gang that attempted armed robbery this morning is still at large. The picture to the left of the screen was grabbed from the gas station’s CCTV recordings, and released by the police._  
_The suspect was shot by the store clerk and is believed to have been seriously injured – there is a chance he will seek medical care and all pharmacies, walk in doctor’s offices and hospitals should be on high alert._  
 _The man is said to be highly dangerous and the public should **not** attempt to approach him or make contact._  
 _If you have information on whom this suspect is, then please call the hotline on screen now._  
  
_We repeat; the suspect is believed to be armed and is a highly dangerous man. If seen in public, do not try to approach him or make contact with him – call 911 immediately._  
 _If you have information on whom this man is, then please contact your local police department or the hotline on screen now._

_-xox-_

Matty tilted his head back, trying not to cry from frustration.  
  
They had nearly had the money; they had nearly gotten it, they had almost made it out. They had been so close and he had to go and get distracted.  
  
Adam and Ross had been arrested; they would go to jail.  
  
What was it, 10 to 25 years for armed robbery? He couldn’t remember.  
  
And then there was the high probability of them giving Matty up for the chance of a plea bargain, a shorter sentence.  
  
Matty’s right hand clenched into a fist and he slammed it down on the bed, only to yell out in pain as a sharp stabbing pain entered his side. Tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and Matty had to take some sharp breaths to keep his breathing in check.  
  
With shaking hands, he carefully pulled the hospital duvet down, staring at the small red dot of blood spreading across the fabric of the hospital gown.  
  
Shaking, he sat up, swinging his bare feet to touch the cold hospital floor. He winced and stood up, slowly, clinging to the IV pole next to him. His legs shook underneath him, but he managed to stay upright.  
  
Realising he was still connected to the numerous machines around him; he sighed and sat back down, resting his head in his hand, elbows digging into his knees.  
  
They’d fucked up. No, _he_ had fucked up and everything had gone to shit. If he’d just been watching...  
  
The sharp pain in his abdomen was starting to get worse and he winced before he groped around the bed for the dial pad where he could call for a nurse. Finding it, his thumb pressed down hard for the nurse before he hit the button for pain relief.  
  
Glancing down, he saw the blood spot was starting to worsen, to slowly get bigger and spread across the pale blue synthetic material.  
  
He snorted. _The doctor is going to kill me_.  
  
As a nurse rushed into his room, Matty swung his legs back up onto the bed, watching her fuss over the blood spot.  
  
“This needs stitching again, what did you do?”  
  
“I tried to stand up.” The nurse tutted at him and Matty winced. “Do me a favour and knock me out. I need to sleep.”  
  
She watched him for a moment before she crossed the room to a draw, pulling out a needle. She checked the vial for a moment before she returned, carefully connecting the  needle to the IV lead, pushing the plunger down carefully, but quickly.  
  
It took a little while, a few moments of him watching the nurse fiddle around with washing her hands and putting gloves on, before his vision started to swim and Matty slowly crept into a peaceful sleep, oblivious to his mistakes and pain.


End file.
